Deck the Halls, Bruise Your Hand
by Pardra
Summary: An annual Christmas oneshot collection. Starting with the year after X was discovered and expanding onwards. Additions for the Zero and Classic series may be possible as well. (Rated for safety; expect none of my usual angst or violence)


Disclaimer: Only the writing and story belong to me.

WARNING: None…? A little sad in the latter parts.

Description: Title speaks for itself. This oneshot takes place during X's first Christmas.

AN: This is going to be an annual oneshot collection. I might be able to squeeze out one more this year besides this one, but I can't guarantee it'll be out before Christmas, so we'll see. Not sure if I'll find a title for this one. Try to remember X is pretty "young" at this point, but not newbuilt by any means. Oh, yeah, tell me if you know what the title of this chapter is from!

Deck the Halls, Bruise Your Hand

Act I, Tableau 1, The Christmas Tree

Having spent his entire life—a grand total of four months (that he could recall)—with an eccentric and aging archeologist who was bound and determined that he should have the same database as the computer system in said archeologist's lab, he had thought he knew everything there was to know about human society.

But right now there was a tree in the living room and he was seriously reconsidering his own intelligence.

"But _why?"_ He demanded, watching Cain's grandchildren the glaringly fresh tree with colored balls and other strangely-shaped things of varying size, color, and tackiness.

Dr. Cain rescued a particularly unfortunate _glass_ ball from the youngest of the children (a girl dressed in a green and red striped dress) and placed it on a higher branch, "You know why. I'm sure you've happened across at least one mention of Christmas tree in the last month. The radio stations have been playing Christmas music since November."

X shifted on the couch, his legs folded to keep from brushing any of the boxes of decorations strewn across the floor.

He frowned, "I've heard of it, I've researched it, and I understand where it stems from. I do _not_ understand why it persists. Why is there a tree in this house? _Why?"_

The old man turned to give him a wry look, "Don't blow your processor, now."

A sharp, feminine yell came from the kitchen. X flattened himself on the seat as the children charged into the kitchen for snacks. Cain sighed, disgruntled, but X merely sat again without a remark and gave him a blank look of telepathic demand.

Cain reached into the prickly foliage to retrieve a plastic, frosted angel and relocated it to a more visible perch.

"And I don't understand why we have multiple trees. There's a real one here, and it's big, and sticky, and it's a fire hazard. And then there's a little tree in the dining room that's fake and scrawny, and then the little one in the kids' room."

"Because we have too many ornaments. If there was one thing my ex-wife didn't take it's those ornaments," Cain grumbled. "And it's festive."

"There's that word again," the young android frowned in confusion. "I'm beginning to dislike that word."

Cain stepped back (avoiding several boxes in the process) and surveyed his work, "You'll understand in a few years. Maybe even by next year."

"I see…"

"It's about tradition," the former archeologist relented at X's pitiable expression of bafflement. "When someone mentions Christmas the tree is probably the first thing that comes to most people's minds."

X followed Cain's example and examined the tree. With all of its mismatched decorations it wasn't exactly as eye-widening a sight as the ones in the magazines Cain had borrowed from his daughter, but it _was_ charming.

"That makes more sense," X said, satisfied.

The old man laughed and stroked his beard in amusement, "Not everything has to make sense, X."

The small android's nose wrinkled, synthetic skin reacting so flawlessly with X's confusion that most human would not have guessed he wasn't a real flesh-and-blood teenager.

"I'm starting to realize that, Dr. Cain."

Cain just smiled, "Come on. Let's go see if we can fix up the tree in the dining room before the kids get there."

* * X * *

The green numbers on the microwave read 2:46 (A.M.). It was eerily quiet in the kitchen; it's only occupant was X, who was sitting on the counter staring blankly at the microwave and swinging his legs. A mug of cocoa was cradled in his right hand, the ceramic almost painfully hot to hold.

After the numbers had changed to 2:48 (A.M.), he blinked and turned his attention to the mug, taking a tentative sip. It was less uncomfortable to drink now. He took a longer sip of the almost over-sweet beverage and marveled at how quiet the house was. With all of the people gone or asleep it felt emptier than it normally did at night.

Having spent most of the day in his room hiding from Cain's children, and thereby expending little energy, he was finding it difficult to sleep. He didn't require nearly as much as Dr. Cain did and often found himself roaming the house at night. He'd waited a while after all of the lights had been turned off before leaving his room—he had no desire to encounter one of Dr. Cain's children during his midnight snack. Especially his daughter, Cheryl.

X could only imagine what she'd say if she found him here, drinking cocoa and eating a piece of her sister-in-law's chocolate pie. She'd scowl at him because he didn't _need_ (deserve?) it. And she'd probably call Dr. Cain down to scold him like he was a disobedient pet. The two of them hadn't gotten along from the start. Apparently, Cheryl had never been fond of robots, and she couldn't see past X's mechanical nature to realize that he was _not_ a robotic drone but a free-thinking and feeling android.

X threw his head back as he finished the mug, almost choking on the gritty chocolate powder left at the bottom. So he _didn't_ _need _to eat much, humans didn't need to eat as much as they usually did; food was mostly consumed for flavor or because of boredom not because they _needed_ to eat right then and there. He could convert food to energy just as humans did so it wasn't like the food was wasted. And he _wanted _it, wasn't that enough?

_It's alright though, she has a point, _X told himself as he slid of the counter._ I don't mind that she doesn't like me, it's justified—I am an interloper here, and this is a holiday that's supposed to be spent with family. I'm not a part of this family._

He set the empty cup in the sink and shuffled off into the living room. If he couldn't sleep he could at least watch TV or read a book on the couch.

The living room was lit up warmly by the lights on the tree. Odd, Cain usually turned the lights off at night. _He must have forgotten._

X settled in at the right corner of the couch as he usually did at night, and yanked the folded blanket off the back of the couch to nest into. He groped for the remote but when he found it at last, between the cushions, he didn't turn the TV on.

There were still presents under the tree. But why? Cain had said he always gave all of his gifts away at his Christmas Eve party, and it was Christmas day now.

X tilted his head and examined the packages. He hadn't seen these before, but Dr. Cain had encouraged him to help wrap presents. He slid off the couch for a closer look: Maybe these were Cain's own presents and he hadn't wanted to open them until today?

But when he examined the tag on the nearest box, wrapped in solid silver paper, it was _his_ name that he found there.

_Oh, _X thought as he sat back on his haunches. _Oh…_

So that was why he hadn't seen them before. They weren't Cain's, they were _his._ Cain had bought him presents—like he was a fellow human.

X fell back into his little nook on the couch, a smile growing on his face. So maybe Cain's kids didn't like him—Cain seemed to think he was human enough to warrant presents. He glanced at the presents again—_his_ presents—a strange sense of excitement growing in his chest. _I wonder if Cheryl knows about these?_

His smile became somewhat smug as he imagined her consternation—and then he realized something, "…..I didn't get anything for Dr. Cain! Well…I wasn't expecting to get anything from him, so maybe he'll forgive me," X fretted as he wrapped the plaid blanket around his shoulders, settling down to wait until morning.

Nights usually went by slowly for him but now time just seemed to drag. He couldn't take his eyes off of the presents. They just looked so tempting, sitting there sparkling in the lights from the tree.

And suddenly he understood exactly _why_ the tree stuck around as tradition.


End file.
